


Demonic

by NaturalDisaster_Goddess



Series: Corruption [3]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, Drowning, Fingernails getting torn off, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, I know it's gonna seem like I hate Sky but I don't I promise, Linked Universe, LinkedUniverse, Lots of liberties taken with magic, Maybe - Freeform, Mostly hurt, Not Sure if it'd be physical or phychological so imma just say both, Possesion, Seizure, Suggestive Themes, Sword wounds, Team as Family, Torture, but it's Ghirahim, electric shock, eventually gonna be some hella PTSD involved, eye getting gouged out, idk how to tag it, impalment, like I'm not going for that, past? character death, snake bites, so just to be safe, venom - Freeform, will be fluff eventually, ya'll this is gonna be some twisted shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-14 11:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 19,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18475261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaturalDisaster_Goddess/pseuds/NaturalDisaster_Goddess
Summary: An ambiguous ending is never a good thing; especially in a fight.





	1. Shattered Sword

**Author's Note:**

> I said this in the tags, but this one is gonna get really, really dark. I'll post specific warnings for each chapter if I deem them necessary, but I just want all of you to be aware.

The fight had gone on for a long time.

He was panting.

His bones felt like lead, but his movements were no less swift.

He had too much to fight for to let the exhaustion get to his now.

Finally…

_ Finally _ he won.

The massive black sword in the creature’s hand shattered, and the creature uttered his final curse.

_ What did he mean? _

He was too tired to figure it out.

He was also too tired to dwell on the fate of the sword; he assumed the spirit had died or been absorbed into The Master Sword alongside his master.

Either way he never questioned it.

Perhaps he should have.

 


	2. Empty

Sky sat silently before The Master Sword; his eyes screwed shut tightly.

_ Come on… _

_ Come on… _

_ Come on… _

He opened his eyes and huffed frustratedly. Fi had been completely silent for the last three days; while she couldn’t talk to him or the others as much as she could before he’d sealed Demise inside the blade he always got  _ something _ from her. Even if it was just whispers or vague feelings he could always hear her, even when she’d stopped talking to him when Wild had been infected by malice he could still feel her vague simmering worry; this complete silence was unlike her.

“What’s going on with you?” he whispered, then sighed.

It was probably time he get back to the others before they started worrying, and given the events of the last few months they’d started doing that a lot more. First with Wild and the malice infection that had nearly killed him, and then Twilight turning into a shadow beast. They weren’t sure if it was a conspiracy or just bad luck, but either way everyone was more paranoid than ever.

And apparently his world, despite its peaceful scenery, wasn’t helping with that paranoia given Four’s startled expletive the first time he saw a kikwi.

(“It’s a woodland rodent Four.”

“A squirrel is woodland rodent! That is a small bear!”)

Of course new places always set everyone on edge; now especially.

Wild was cooking dinner when he got back, and the others were going about their own business.

Wind slid over beside him as Sky sat down, “What have you been up to? You’ve been gone for almost two hours.”

“Trying to get in contact with Fi,” Sky replied pulling the sword from its sheath and laying across his lap, “I don’t know why but she’s been completely silent for the last few days, I can barely sense her presence.”

Wind looked at the blade curiously, “Isn’t it supposed to glow?”

It was.

Sky hadn’t noticed it earlier, but in the fading light it became more obvious. The sword wasn’t glowing the way it normally did. Instead of a faint glimmering light the blade was dull, almost empty.

_ What does this mean? _

 


	3. Rage

He was back in the Skyview Temple; fighting for his life against the Demon Lord.

 

He was doing horribly.

 

He was barely able to dodge the charges, and when he tried to land his own strike Ghirahim would stop the sword mid-swing like it was a small tree branch.

It was odd though; everything was fuzzy, not quite there. Ghirahim was the only fully solid creature in the room, and even then he moved through the space like a ghost through smoke. There was a knowing glint in his eyes and a self assured confidence in his smirk that was even more prevalent than usual.

His mouth moved.

“Soon Skychild.” the voice resonated around the cavern, pressing in on Sky from every side.

“Soon you’ll learn; I never lose.”

* * *

 

Sky woke up with a massive headache. A constant, pressing weight on his mind. For the rest of the morning he couldn’t quite move properly. As though his body wasn’t completely listening to him.

He tried to ignore it, push through the omnipresent ache in his body, but no matter what the pain wouldn’t fade.

The others seemed to have noticed his discomfort, and were keeping all of their usual noise to a minimum. It didn’t really help, but he appreciated their efforts nonetheless.

The words that Ghirahim had spoken in his dream continued to echo through his mind. This wasn’t the first time he’d dreamt of his encounters with The Demon Lord. The fights had haunted his dreams since the end of his adventure, but the words…

He hadn’t said those words during any of their many encounters, or in any of Sky’s dreams since. 

So why now?

And what did they mean?

_ I never lose. _

He had though; past and present. Sky had defeated Ghirahim  _ and _ his master. They were gone. Sky had nothing to be afraid of.

 

So then why was he so terrified?

* * *

 

They really hoped this was nothing more than a normal headache.

Whether that hope would prove true remained to be seen.

They all kept an eye on Sky regardless. If the past was any indicator; really bad things started as something small and often seemingly innocuous. Whatever was happening to Sky, however, didn’t quite fit their definition of “innocuous”. He’d had trouble moving all day; often having to focus on accomplishing as simple a movement as walking.

When he tripped and stumbled to his knees clutching desperately at his head they knew something was very  _ very _ wrong.

Four and Warriors were the first to run to his side.

Sky had collapsed onto his side; the palms of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“Sky?” Warriors called shaking Sky’s shoulder, “Hey, are you OK?”

Sky went limp and his hands fell from his eyes revealing lids closed in sleep.

“Sky?” Four asked as Warriors continued gently trying to rouse the other.

Sky’s eyes scrunched up as he moved one arm to push himself up, leaning on one forearm.

“Sky?” Warriors asked again.

The hand of the arm closest to him clenched into a fist.

Then the arm whipped out, viciously shoving him away with far more strength than Sky should have possessed. Warriors’ breath fled his lungs like a bird from a cage, and he was flung through the air and across the ground until he skidded to a stop in the dirt several meters away.

“Warriors!” Four called half getting up to help the fallen knight as the others let out startled cries and gasps.

Then the same hand that had hit Warriors was flying through the air and wrapping around his throat.

Four choked as his air supply was cut off; hands snapping to Sky’s arm.

He stared down at Sky’s slitted eyes-no...not Sky’s.

Instead of cheery, friendly blue the eyes staring back at him were slate brown and  _ burning _ with icy flames of rage and hatred.


	4. Diamonds

Four choked and scraped his nails across Sky’s arm as his feet left the ground when Sky pushed himself up. Raging brown stared at him as he struggled for air.

“What’s this, the little Skychild made some new friends? Good for him.” the voice that rang from Sky’s mouth was cold and cruel. Like the crack of ice right before it splintered and plunged you to a frozen death. Like the hiss of a snake right before it sank its fangs into your flesh.

“Such a shame you’ll no longer be enjoying his company.”

Four grit his teeth and raised his arm; slamming his elbow into the side of Sky’s. The joint bent and cracked with an audible  _ snap! _

“ _ Agh! _ ” Sky cried as his arm snapped; his hand losing its grip on Four’s throat.

Four coughed and scrambled back; Wind darting forward to help him as Hyrule helped pull Warriors back to his feet.

“Humans,” Sky scoffed, “always so fragile.”

He grabbed his arm just above the break, and with a vicious tug and  _ crack _ he yanked the bone back into place. Then he disappeared in a shower of black and white diamonds.

“Now I’ll admit I wasn’t quite expecting this,” the voice sounded from above them and a glance upward reveal Sky, or whatever it was Sky had become, lounging on tree branch leaning his head on one hand and legs swinging behind him, “but I do believe it may prove to be quite advantageous.”

“Who the fuck are you!?” Legend cried whipping his sword from its sheath.

Sky frowned and looked down at Legend like he was some irritating insect, “Temper, temper, and I was even going to tell. But you’re just so impolite; I may just keep it to myself.”

Another shower of diamonds and he reappeared behind Legend leaning lazily on his shoulder, “Though, even if I do have to use his body, I don’t particularly want to be known by the Skychild’s name.”

Legend swiped at Sky’s head with the pommel of his sword, but the other was already disappearing in another spray of diamonds.

He appeared on another tree branch leaning on crossed arms, “Very well, I am The Demon Lord: Ghirahim, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

“Where’s Sky?” Twilight demanded.

“Hm, oh the Skychild,” Ghirahim said, “he’s around here somewhere; though I’m afraid he’s quite...preoccupied.”

He broke up the words with a vague wave of his unbroken hand.

“Now I really don’t have time to fight you at the moment,” Ghirahim vanished from his spot on the branch and reappeared back on the ground leaning against the trunk, “places to be and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

He waggled his fingers tauntingly, “Toodle-oo.”

“Hey!” someone shouted angrily.

Too late though; Ghirahim was already gone, leaving behind fading sparks of diamonds, and a terrifying uncertainty surrounding the fate of their friend.

 


	5. Unbreakable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this chapter contains some torture; burning, clubbing, sword wounds, and light impalement.

He was in the Silent Realm.

What was he doing here?

They’d been walking; he’d tripped and his head had exploded with pain. He’d heard the sound of worried voices, and then...nothing.

Now he was just...here.

_ Why? _

“I told you you’d learn Skychild.” Ghirahim’s voice echoed.

There was the sound of a snap screeching through the quiet blue forest, and everything turned red.

Sky gasped; eyes searching desperately for a guardian or a goddess tear to halt them, whichever came first.

There were no goddess tears

_ of course there weren’t he’d already finished that trial. _

but there were definitely guardians.

Closing in around him like a pack of wolves descending on their prey. Sky trembled; his eyes growing wide. Then he turned away from the white wraiths, and ran.

“The legends speak of the unbreakable spirit possessed by the Goddess’s Chosen Hero.” Ghirahim’s voice whispered in his ear.

Sky ran as fast as he could; breath ripping from his lungs in short, desperate, gasping pants.

He skidded to a stop. Directly in front of him were more guardians; floating leisurely toward him as though they had all the time in the world.

Sky turned on his heel and darted in the other direction. Another snap and he felt a heavy weight settle around his neck. His neck was yanked back and he choked as the heavy metal collar wrapped around his throat halted his movement. He turned back and wrapped his hand around the chain anchoring him to the ground and  _ pulled _ .

 

And pulled…

 

And pulled…

 

And pulled…

 

The sharp points of the diamond shaped links carved into the palms of his hands; shredding the flesh and leaving stinging scrapes and long trails of blood.

“What do you think?” the Demon’s voice whispered. Sky felt the weight of a pair of hands press into his shoulders, but when he looked back Ghirahim was nowhere to be seen.

Then the collar heated up, and he felt the hot metal burn into the skin of his throat. He screamed, voice echoing through the Silent Realm like the crack of a whip in the dead of night, and his hands leapt to the collar curling his fingers around the burning metal desperately attempting to pull it away. His screams grew louder as the heat burned into his fingertips. The acrid smell of burning flesh and boiling blood drifted into his nose making him gag.

All around him the guardians closed in around him; watching him struggle to pull the fiery collar off with no success.

They moved closer; lifting their weapons like executioner’s blades.

He heard Ghirahim’s voice again, whispered in his ear as the hands on his shoulders loosened and slipped down so that Sky felt a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest penning him in, “Shall we find out just how ‘unbreakable’ it is?”

The first club came down on his chest; pushing him to the ground and smashing the ribs above his heart.

It was followed by a blade swinging at his eyes.

A smaller blade forced his right hand away from the collar around his neck, and pinned it to the ground.

All he could see between one swing and the next was the blade impaled through the hand where the mark of the Triforce was. 

The bloodied blade piercing right through the Triforce of Courage.

 


	6. Dreams

_ Where was he? _

The room was dark; the floor colored blue, traced with dark, swirling ivy patterns.

_ A temple maybe? _

It was odd though; it didn’t feel like he was  _ in _ the room. He was only seeing it; when in actuality he was...everywhere...but also...nowhere.

There was a strange man in the room staring contemplatively at the door and oddly dressed in a skin-tight white outfit and red cloak.

He didn’t recognize him, but some instinct in his chest that’d kept him alive through long, dark, lonely nights reared up; warning him

_ Danger! Danger! Get away! Run! _

but at the same time some feeling that wasn’t his was satisfied.

The door on the opposite side of the room swung open.

Sky...that was Sky.

_ What was he doing there? _

The other man spoke; taunting words spilling from white painted lips in a familiar snake hiss voice.

Ghirahim. Why was he there, and why was he inhabiting Sky’s body now?

There was a fight; of course there was.

Sky won, but only just barely.

He heard two ringing words; words that that screaming instinct in his chest locked onto

_ Important. That’s important. Remember that. _

“ _ Skyview Temple. _ ”

The colors were fading.

_ A dream. He was dreaming. _

_ It felt like a memory, but not his. _

* * *

 

Wild snapped awake.

_ How had he even fallen asleep in the first place? _

The others were gathered around a small fire; tending to Warriors’s bruising ribs. Muttered questions and theories floated through the air, and despite the quickly fading sun no one slept.

Except him.

What had he woken up from?

A memory that wasn’t his? That’s what it felt like, but that had only happened before because of the malice infection. Why now?

_ What the hell did it even mean? _

He could think himself in circles for hours and get no closer to an answer.

There was a soft thud as someone dropped to the ground beside him.

“I can hear your brain working from a mile away,” Twilight said quietly, “what are you thinking about?”

“Just this dream I had.” Wild responds distractedly.

“Nightmare?”

“It was about Sky.”

Twilight froze, “What?”

“I saw Sky. It was like a memory, but it wasn’t one that could’ve been mine.”

“So what? Do you think you may have an idea of what’s happening to him?”

“Maybe.”

“So then-”

“Skyview Temple...Skyview Temple.” Wild repeats like he’s afraid if he doesn’t say it now it’ll escape his mind and he’ll forget it forever.

Twilight’s eyebrows scrunch together, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

 


	7. Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am taking so many liberties with how Ghirahim's magic works. It's never really explained how magic works in the Zelda Universe that I know of. *shrugs* everything is canon if there is no canon.

There was a flash of black and white diamonds and Ghirahim appeared before the door to the main atrium of Skyview Temple. He gave a vicious smirk, an expression that looked far out of place on Sky’s face, and kicked the door open. He stepped into the room with a deep breath.

_ Ah, good, the scars of the past still festered. _

As he stepped further into the room Ghirahim almost swore he could still smell the blood that had been spilled and the magic that had been used that day. His smirk grew and he held his hands aloft; black and white diamonds sparkling along his fingertips. When he opened his eyes he could see the shimmering trails left by long ago used teleportation magic, and he didn’t even need magic to see long dried patches of blood but with it he could see the glowing life energy lost with every drop spilled.

_ Excellent. _

The diamonds sparkling along his fingers grew larger and began to glow. The glow in his hand grew brighter as the glow in the room that only he could see grew dimmer.

A spiderweb of black vines grew up his arm; pale fingernails turning black as fingers morphed into metallic claws black coloring spreading up tanned forearms.

The glow in his hands died down and Ghirahim looked down at his arms in satisfaction.

He was finally starting to look like himself.

“Well then,” he said to himself as gazed around the room, “I suppose I’ll have to throw them a bone if I want this to work.”

He twirled around the room as he spoke to himself as though the room was a stage and he was putting on a one-man show, “What to do to get their attention though?”

He froze in place and clapped his hands together, “Ah, I know.”

He pulled The Master Sword from her sheath with a satisfied smirk.

_ Can’t hurt me now can you? _

“The Skychild’s screams are so lovely to listen to after all.”

* * *

 

Several miles away, completely unaware of what had happened, the other Links were nearly knocked from their feet as a massive explosion rocked the ground.

It was followed by a loud, echoing, pained, terrified,  _ familiar _ scream.

When they regained their balance they could clearly see a massive column of black smoke drifting into the sky from the direction of the scream.

Wild was the first to move; Wind and Hyrule following not a second later and the others racing to catch up.

The worry of a trap tickled at the back of their minds, but at the moment that was the least of their concerns. All they knew or cared about was that their friend was hurt.

They made it to the steps of Skyview Temple, and chased after the smell of smoke and sound of rubble crashing.

The door was wide open when they found it; fragments of the stone ceiling falling to the ground and letting the sun shine down like a spotlight.

Cheery, glimmering sunlight bounced off the dust floating through the air and lit upon the far wall.

Glinting on the smeared, red image of the Triforce.

 


	8. Trapped

The ground wouldn’t stop moving.

He wouldn’t have minded as much if there weren’t so many walls.

As it was he would stumble a few steps along what he thought was the ground, and then his entire world would turn on end leaving him floundering through the air and smashing harshly into the stone walls.

So far as he could tell he was trapped in a massive labyrinth; every wall looked the same and every time he even thought he’d made any progress toward finding an exit

_ If there even was one. _

the entire maze would flip and twist leaving him dizzy and nauseous and more lost than ever.

There was even a flat, gray, stone ceiling.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here, and he was about ready to start painting the walls in his own blood just for something  _ different _ to look at. It didn’t help that he always felt eyes on him; watching him like some exotic pet trapped in a cage.

He was tired and lonely and he was bruised and aching from all the times he’d been tossed into a wall. More than that, he was lost, and not just in the labyrinth.

The confusion felt like a physical presence; like a pair of arms that had wrapped innocently around his chest like a gentle hug at first, and then slowly became a vice twisted around him squeezing the air from his lungs and making him hesitate with every step.

_ Where am I? Is any of this even real? _

The floor tilted again.

He gasped for breath, and scrabbled for any hand hold while his feet slipped out from under him, ripped from solid ground by gravity’s merciless claws.

Air whipped past his ears as he fell; on instinct he brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled. No answer except the bellowing echos reminding him just how alone he was. Before he could consider his sailcloth he slammed into the side of the maze and heard a loud  _ snap _ followed by pain arching up and down his leg.

He grimaced and bit his lip with a whimper.

The maze righted itself and he was rolled from wall to floor with a pained yelp. Tears of pain and desperation started to poke at his eyes. He turned his head and had to choke down bile when he saw the state his leg was in. It was bent completely out of shape, dark bruising already painting the visible skin under his torn pant leg, creamy white bone coated in a thin layer of blood poked out of his skin dragging shredded muscle and loose blood vessels into the outside air with it.

He was never going to be able to walk on that; he was stuck.

_ No _ , he thought the tears burning fiercely in his eyes,  _ he wasn’t stuck now, he already had been. He’d just been fooling himself with the ability to move. _

He was trapped, and who knows how long he had been.

 


	9. Fi

Ghirahim grit his teeth in irritation and batted out the flames on his sleeve.

_ Stupid volcano. _

He’d made it to the Earth Temple though.

He shoved open the door to the atrium; made it or not he still hated this volcano and he wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

He held his blackened hands aloft and the sparkling diamonds floated around his fingertips with a bright glow.

The metallic black sheen on his arms stretched its grasp further up the arm, but halted halfway up the upper arm and no matter how much Ghirahim’s hand glowed the color would spread no further.

He frowned, “I suppose that’s the most I can do without Master’s help.”

He turned his thoughts faintly to the other eight heroes; probably wandering the forest in search of him.

“Can’t hope for much better timing,” he said wonderingly, “Though it would be nice to actually be looking like my fine self. Oh well, I suppose I’ll just have to make do.”

Rather than bother facing the lava again Ghirahim snapped his fingers and disappeared.

* * *

 

He was dreaming again.

He was in a desert this time, and Sky and Ghirahim were nowhere to be seen.

He could see a massive temple in front of him.

_ What? _

There was a blur of color; blue, purple, black, and garbled words.

“Master...Fi...go West...Temple of Time...Lanayru Desert.”

She appeared in front of him; blurry and scrambled in the same way his Sheikah Slate appeared in those few seconds before he was caught in a sandstorm.

_ Fi, isn’t that what Sky always calls the spirit in The Master Sword? _

“Hurry.”

Then she was gone, and he was thrust back into consciousness.

It was dark; Time had finally managed to convince everyone to at least  _ attempt _ sleeping.

Time, however, had not taken his own advice, and sitting against a tree fully awake and alert watching the forest for any sign of movement.

He turned his gaze to Wild as soon as he heard the younger’s gasping breaths.

“Wild,” he asked worriedly, “What is it?”

Wild searched the horizon to the West, but nothing was visible through the dense foliage.

“I think I know where we have to go.”

 


	10. Sea of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter partially inspired by a story I read about some guy who wound up with internal burns after nearly drowning in The Dead Sea  
> Warnings: Electric shock, drowning, seizure. I tried to research what a seizure would be like but it may be inaccurate.

The first thing he was aware of was water.

The sound of it trickling all around him, and the feeling of the cold liquid licking at his face and clothes.

The second thing was the overwhelming smell of salt, followed by the distinct lack of pain in the leg he could have sworn had been horribly broken just a few minutes ago.

_ What? _

When he opened his eyes he could see his wrists wrapped in heavy metal cuffs latched to a short chain anchored to the floor.

_ I was just in a maze. _

He pushed himself to his knees; the irritating scrape of...something...chafing against his skin as long as his hands were in the water. He couldn’t really tell where he was; he could see for a certain distance and after that, meaningless void. He couldn’t see an end to the room, but he could feel the water level rising. The water was halfway up his thighs as he knelt, and the smell of salt grew ever stronger.

This was salt water, and by the smell and the chafing feel there was a lot of salt.

 

And within a few minutes he would be completely submerged.

 

He threw himself to his feet, but he chain wouldn’t allow him to fully stand up. He yanked at the chain, and the level of water grew higher with every second. A current from some indistinguishable source had the water moving in rapid swirls around his legs; sharp particles of salt scraping across his skin leaving burning, stinging scratches.

He pulled desperately at the chains. The water was swiftly approaching his hips, and already he was losing his balance. Soon he wouldn’t even be able to stand in the dense salt water. His feet started to lose purchase on the ground, and he had time to suck in a deep breath before he fell face first into the water. He held his breath, and still the water level rose.

He froze, no longer trying to yank his way free of the chains; hoping against hope that he could hold his breath long enough for whoever was doing this to grow bored.

He knew his hope was in vain when he felt the tiny shock against his wrists. His eyes snapped to the manacles, and there was another shock, stronger this time. He winced and grit his teeth as he felt the electricity coursing through his body. Panic started to settle in his chest like a rock in his lungs, and he pulled the chains, metal cuffs chafing against his wrists and scraping away layers of skin.

The third shock hit him like a bolt of lightning. His mouth fell open in a silent scream as the electricity flowed through his body and through the salt water. The water rushed into his mouth; salt scraping along the inside. He tried not to let any of it slip down his throat, but another bolt of electricity and the salt water was pushing through his throat and into his lungs and stomach. He felt the burning as the salt scraped through his organs, and he coughed violently as his lungs tried to expel the water only ending up inhaling more.

After the fifth shock it didn’t stop.

He felt his muscles twitch and quake. His vision faded in and out, and the sound of the water rushing around him was suddenly vague and distant. He still felt salt scratching its way through his organs leaving behind stinging abrasions, and he felt like he might throw up but never did. The water still outside of his body was still moving and swirling around him, scraping away parts of his skin. Trails of red blood floated daintily past his foggy vision.

He thrashed violently; movements comically slow in the dense water as the electricity in the cuffs maintained its constant flow, sparks flying into the water around him. His eyes were rolling aimlessly in their sockets and he wasn’t really sure what he was looking at anymore.

His world had narrowed into a blur, pain, and the distant sound of cold laughter.

 


	11. What Happens Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter includes hypothermia, it's marked in the chapter where. You won't miss any plot relevant stuff if you choose to skip it.

The eight of them were gathered around the campfire*. It was still dark, but neither Wild nor Time had been able to wait for daylight to share Wild’s message from Fi. The two of them had rushed around camp shaking the other heroes awake, and silencing their protests with the mere mention of Sky’s name.

Now the other six heroes stared at the two of them with tired eyes glazed over with worry hidden with varying levels of success.

Finally Hyrule spoke up, “So what is this about Sky?”

Wild twisted his cloak in his fingers, “I think I know where to find him.”

No one looked tired anymore.

“Well,” Legend said, “don’t keep us waiting.”

“In a dream I had, Fi said to go West to the Temple of Time in the Lanayru Desert.”

Silence.

“Does this smell like a trap to anyone else?” Warriors asked running his fingers through his hair.

A series of agreements came from the group.

Four sighed, “So, are we gonna go anyway?”

No one spoke for a second.

“I have a better question,” Twilight finally said, “Is  _ not _ going really an option?”

No one answered; they didn’t have to. Every single one of them already knew the answer…

_ No. _

* * *

 

*********This is where the hypothermia warning comes in**********

He was cold.

Really cold.

He couldn’t tell if he was moving anymore; his limbs had all gone numb. He couldn’t see straight anymore, and his blood felt like half-froze slush struggling through his veins.

_ What was going to happen to him? _

 

_ How long would he be stuck here? _

 

_ How long had he been here already? _

 

_ What was happening outside? _

 

_ What was happening to the others? _

 

If he’d had the energy he would have been surprised at how many questions he was able to conjure in his barely working mind.

He tried to twitch his fingers, but it seemed the rest of his body had given up on the appendages. He couldn’t tell if his fingers were still there.

The only feelings left were his heart pounding in his ears as it struggled to keep his blood moving, and the frozen air he breathed scraping against his lungs like shards of ice.

_ What’s happening? _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wrestling with my dog while writing this, and I wound up saying the oddly fitting phrase "keep your tongue to yourself". That's not important, but it's important to me that you know that.


	12. Best Laid Plans

The Temple of Time was much the same as he remembered it. The massive stone crest looming above the courtyard housing the pedestal leading up to the shattered remains of the time gate.

“Perfect,” Ghirahim said to himself, “now how to get their attention this time?”

He paced around the temple contemplatively; something wasn’t quite right though. There was something tickling at the edge of his senses; some whistling sound.

He whipped around just in time to snatch a blunt tipped arrow from the air. Ghirahim looked to where the arrow had come from, but the elusive sniper had already disappeared from sight.

No matter.

He opened his senses to the area; to the magic, to the energy, permeating the air.

Ah, there it was; the distinctive energy of a Triforce Bearer, several of them by the feel of it.

“Well this is unexpected,” he said, snapping the arrow in two and dropping the halves to the stone floor, “you’re here earlier than expected.”

There’s no response.

Ghirahim snorts, “Not even going to answer me, how rude. Fine I suppose I’ll just carry on with my brilliant plan on my own.”

More whistling; from a completely different direction this time. Instead of catching it Ghirahim teleports out of the way.

“Is that your whole plan?” he asks scathingly.

He barely has time to hear claws scrabbling on the stone before a large, unexpected weight crashes into his back after leaping off the nearby pedestal with a canine growl. The great black wolf stands over his back; hunkered close to the ground with a paw pinning one of Ghirahim’s arms down and jaws held open just above the back of his neck. There’s more sounds of metal hitting stone and a long chain being freed from its container; then a metal claw closes over Ghirahim’s other arm, sharp pincers digging into the ground. Two more sets of footsteps and blades are piercing through the fabric of his pants pinning his legs in place. A figure drops to the ground from the wall somewhere in front of him and the cloaked figure aims two arrows at his face; one more set of footsteps has someone stepping on the shoulder not pinned by the weight of the wolf. The sound of someone dropping from the walls echos behind him, and he’d be willing to bet that  there’s another arrow being aimed at him.

_ ‘Where’s the last one? _ ’ he wonders.

There’s the sound of cloth scraping along the stone.

Ghirahim’s eyes snap to the side, and the eighth hero is sliding along the ground with the pommel of a sword aimed at Ghirahim’s head. The demon’s eyes widen. He starts to dissolve into diamonds, and by the time Four’s sword meets Ghirahim’s head it’s passing through a shower of diamonds like smoke.

“Damn it!” one of them cries frustratedly as the eight heroes turn to where Ghirahim has reappeared; clothes ruffled, his front covered in dust, and the icy flames in his eyes burning ever brighter as he glares at them.

“Not a bad plan all in all,” he says reaching for The Master Sword, “but, not good enough.”

He pulls the sword from her scabbard. Twilight returns to his human form and unsheathes his own sword as the others do the same. Wild and Hyrule back away placing their backs to a wall.

Ghirahim holds the sword up in front of his face, “As much as I hate this sword, the damnable spirit it houses, and everything it represents even I must admit...it is a beautiful blade.”

Then he reverses his grip on the sword and grabs the blade with his other hand…

 

...and brings the blade down hard over his knee with the harsh ring of snapping metal.

 


	13. Aftermath

The blades snaps easily...too easily.

The harsh, snapping, ring echoes through the air…

 

...and then an explosion.

Bright searing light spreads like wildfire and whirlwinds of air are tossed about in the shockwaves. A cacophony of screams and grunts fills the air as Ghirahim and the eight heroes are tossed through the air like ragdolls. If any of them had had their eyes open perhaps they’d have seen the flash of blue and purple light tearing away from black smog, but they did not see it. 

The roar, however, they definitely heard.

A screaming roar echoing with rage, hatred,  _ power _ . A roar that resonated through the universe. A roar that shook the earth beneath them. A roar that rang from the depths of Hell. A roar that brought despair and suffering and fear wherever it sounded.

The roar of a raging god finally set free.

 

And then…

 

Silence.

 

Ghirahim coughed as the dust settled around him; pushing himself off the ground by the wall he’d been tossed into. He winced at the aching scrapes and bruises as he stood.

_ ‘Stupid, fragile human body.’ _ he thought as he searched the area.

“Master?” he called.

_ That should have worked. He should be here. _

But nothing had changed.

The only things that decorated the temple floor was the broken sword and the unconscious bodies of eight heroes. Ghirahim grit his teeth and walked towards the closest figure; the eldest one by the looks of it.

He reached out a hand to touch the armored shoulder, but there’s a spark of white lightning before he can even get close sending shocking arches of pain up his arm.

Ghirahim yanks his hand back with a curse.

He turns his gaze towards the Sealed Grounds where Skyloft now rests; surely someone must have heard the explosion. At the very least the Spirit Maiden would sense that her precious  blade was now broken.

Ghirahim grit his teeth harder, almost growling; then he disappeared in a flash of diamonds.

 


	14. Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically a torture chapter; also technically no torture. So no warnings for this one.

The next time Sky becomes aware of his surroundings he’s sitting in a chair.

Definitely not as bad as some of the situations he only partially remembers from the last...however long it’s been, but the way the chair is metal, straight-backed with flat armrests, and bolted to the ground doesn’t bode well for him.

He feels very justified in that thinking when a set of leather straps spring from the chair and wrap around his wrists and ankles binding them a little too tightly to the arms and legs of the chair.

He’s pretty sure it’s pointless, but he yanks on the bindings anyway. If nothing else it makes him feel better that he can at least _try_ to escape, even if it isn’t really doing anything.

“You know I was planning to just leave you here to handle whatever difficult situations I could come up with and not get directly involved, I _do_ have an important task and plan to execute after all.” Ghirahim’s voice rings.

Sky doesn’t even bother looking this time; the demon hasn’t really appeared to him so far anyway, only his voice.

Of course though, this time Ghirahim _does_ appear. Stepping out of a cloud of smoke as the fog forms the rest of his body behind him.

He looks the same as he had last time they’d met; gray skin, white hair, white jumpsuit, and too much makeup, towering over Sky with gritted teeth and slitted eyes.

“But as it happens I rather need something to take some anger out on,” the demon pulls a dagger from the air and holds it close to Sky’s face, “and if I recall correctly I made a little promise that I’ve yet to fulfill.”

White painted lips tilt upward in a cruel smirk, “I’ve always wondered how loud a person would have to scream in order to deafen themself.” 

 


	15. Abandonment

He’s standing beside a spring; Ilia stands in front of him faded, fuzzy words slipping from her mouth and Colin standing beside him.

 

_ Huh? _

 

When did he get here? He’d been in Sky’s time; how did he get back home?

No, not home, he realizes as several bulbins smash their way into the spring.

_ ‘The past?’ _ he wonders as he goes to reach for a sword that isn’t there.

Not quite; it’s different this time. This time he’s knocked hard on the head and falls to the ground unable to move, but he isn’t unconscious. He’s completely aware as Epona is chased away and Colin and Ilia are slung over the bulbins’ shoulders are carried away.

_ ‘No,’ _ he thinks desperately,  _ ‘don’t go.’ _

The colors of the forest waver and fade around him and the figures of Colin and Ilia are torn away from him forever.

_ ‘No, not forever, I got them back.’ _ but the words don’t calm his racing heart.

* * *

 

He feels like a ghost in the next one. Drifting somewhere above the ground; watching as an indistinguishable figure leaves a basket on the ground in the middle of the night. Twilight hears a sound like a baby crying, and sees the figure clutch at a small hand. He sees a glimpse of the hand the figure clutches, and what he sees sends a burning pike through his heart.

Because sitting innocently on the child’s left hand is a faded, barely there mark of the Triforce; the same mark that sits on his own hand.

The figure’s shoulders shake, and then they stand and run from the village they’ve left their son in.

_ Wait. No. Come back… _

 

_...Why? _

He’s running through a forest, not one of his, but dreadfully familiar nonetheless. It’s the same forest he’d run through for days on end with Wild strapped to his back; all while the cub was slowly dying.

He’d made it to Hateno in time, but what if he hadn’t.

Cub would’ve died. He’d have faded away like the stars at sunrise. Twilight never would’ve seen him again. Never dragged him away from a cliff that he definitely couldn’t make it all the way up. Never lectured him for jumping onto the back of a lynel, or for setting off a bomb to close, or for riding a bear into camp again, or any of the other heart attack inducing antics he could get himself into. Never curled up beside him as a wolf to help him calm down from a nightmare… 

He’d never have been able to do any of that ever again.

The idea had haunted him, and sometimes it still did. On desolate nights when he had to sniff the air to make sure it didn’t smell of decay; when he had to carefully look over Wild’s face to make sure it was all still there.

_ ‘Don’t leave me,’ _ he’d thought,  _ ‘please don’t leave me.’ _

Because of course that was always a possibility, and he knew that very well as another place became visible. One that he knew before it had even fully formed.

It was the mirror.

Empty and broken; shards littering the floor.

He falls to his knees before the broken fragments gently brushing his finger over one.

“Why did she have to go,” he asks hoping some deity up there will give him an answer, “why do any of them?”

_ Why do they have to leave me? _

Hot, salty water pools in his eyes as he sees an image of his friends, the other Links.

_ Even they’ll have to leave eventually. _

The tears dripped down his cheeks quiet waterfalls of misery as he sat in front of a mirror that had cost him everything.

_ Why does everyone have to leave? _

His hand came up to his face, cupping around his nose and mouth as he tilted his face up desperately trying to stop the tears from falling.

His hands scraped against his cheeks in a vain effort to erase the tears.

Something scratched across his face.

He paused, eyes going wide, and lowered his hands to see  the silver, moonstone ring sitting on his finger. A tear dripped down his face and fell onto the ring bursting apart on impact; unable to hold together when put against it.

_ See you later. _

He smiled.

_ That’s right. She hadn’t left; none of them had. Not forever, and never because they’d wanted to. _

_ They came back. _

_ They always came back. _

He saw Ilia and the kids: a little worse for wear but  _ back _ and  _ happy _ . He saw Midna: walking through the door with a smirk on her lips and a light in her eyes saying just how much she’d missed him.

_ Even if it takes a little while. _

He saw Wild: body rotting away on the floor as they stabbed The Master Sword into his chest, then, a few days later, awake and complaining about being confined to bed rest.

_ Even if they needed a little help. _

He saw the figure: hunched over their child and fighting back tears. Then in their place he saw Rusl and Uli: smiling at him even though he wasn’t really theirs. He saw Time: that severe face and the tiny, proud smile that sometimes appeared when he looked at Twilight, a smile that made him forget bad things existed.

_ Even if they’re not exactly the same as they were. _

 

_ They always came back. _

 


	16. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter includes the poor boy getting his fingernails torn off, and that's basically the whole chapter so if you don't want to read that you can just skip this one.

*******GETTING INTO SOME MAJOR GORE RIGHT OFF THE BAT*******

He tried not to scream. 

He really did.

He bit his lip when Ghirahim jabbed his dagger underneath Sky’s fingernail, and drew blood when the blade forced the small plate up and away tearing the nail completely off leaving behind shards of the nail and a trail of blood and tendons.

“Ah ah none of that,” Ghirahim scolds as he presses his fingers into Sky’s jaw forcing his teeth to leave their new home in his lip, “I want to hear every last sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He pushes the tip of the dagger under another nail tearing it away from the flesh and scraping away skin and muscle and blood vessels.

Without any way to stop it a croaking half-scream crawls its way out of Sky’s throat, and the only thing he can see is the white flash of a cruel grin.

 


	17. Isolation

_ Where was everyone? _

He was alone; standing in the middle of the Four Sword Sanctuary with no idea how he’d gotten there. The green, moss covered room was coated in a wavering blue; not necessarily bad just... _ wrong _ .

He made his way to the door and tried to push it open, but it was firmly shut and he couldn’t budge it.

His heart beat faster; thrumming nervously in his chest.

_ Where was everyone? _

_ Why was he alone? _

Four sat down at the base of the dais that had once housed the Four Sword, and narrowed his eyes at the door.

_ How to get out? _

He turned his head to ask someone. Legend would probably have an idea, but, he’d forgotten, there was no one else here. He was alone.

His breath froze in his throat; something wasn’t right. Not just that the other Links weren’t here, but something he couldn’t quite place.

His heart beat even faster.

He didn’t like being alone; he never had been. He’d always had a companion; first with Ezlo, and then with Re-

Oh…

That’s what was wrong.

The whispering thoughts in his mind that sometimes sounded like completely different voices were gone. He couldn’t hear the fragments of his personality.

They were gone, and he was more alone than he’d ever been in his life.

His breathing picked up; slamming in and out of his lungs like hammer blows.

 

_ He was alone. _

 

_ Why was he alone? _

 

He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut forcing his breathing to slow.

 

_ He needed to get out. _

 

But how?

Legend and Wild and Hyrule and Vio were the ones who always had the tools and ideas to get through a dungeon. Twilight and Warriors and Blue were the ones who were always able to force their way through a situation with nothing but brute strength and stubbornness. Sky and Wind and Red were the ones who always seemed to know what people needed. Time and Green were the ones who always knew how to keep people together.

He didn’t know how to do that.

 

_ Did it matter though? _

 

_ He wanted to see his friends again. _

 

_ He wanted to see Sky with blue eyes again. _

 

His shoulder felt heavy with the weight of a sword that wasn’t there. The weight of the sword that had taken the pieces of his personality and given them physical form.

Blue: brash and strong and skilled.

Vio: calm and clever and meticulous.

Red: bubbly and kind and empathetic.

Green: balanced and sure and confident.

He’d never been alone on his adventures, because he’d had them. Each part of himself had had the other three to lean on.

It was a little less obvious; a little less physical.

 

It was still true.

 

Even if he couldn’t hear their voices they were still there; sitting in the back of his mind working in perfect tandem, perfect balance.

He couldn’t hear the voices of the pieces of himself, but he didn’t need to.

They were still there.

He opened his eyes and stared back at the sanctuary around him.

 

_ He was getting out. _

 


	18. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ya'll I don't even know how to categorize this. Gore, just, gore.

************GORE WARNING*********

There was music playing.

Soft, and beautiful, and completely out of place.

Every twitch of his fingers sends pain arching up his arms from the braided wires piercing into bone through the bloody patches of flesh where his fingernails used to be.

His head is tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, and there’s a leather strap across his forehead and another across his throat the will strangle him if he even  _ tries  _ to lift his head. Ghirahim is standing over him, humming along to the music as he carves an overlapping diamond mark under Sky’s left eye, exactly like the one on his own face usually hidden by his hair.

Sky doesn’t know what the daggers been coated with, but it  _ burns _ with a hot fury like acid.

Then he’s pressing down on the wires in Sky’s fingers to the rhythm of the music. Long fingers flying over the cords like a pianist writing their newest masterpiece.

 


	19. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics toward the end of the chapter are from the song "The Saltwater Room" by Owl City which I have made Marin and Legend's theme song in my head.  
> So, my semester at school is coming to a close and I have a project and four tests within the next week or so. As such my update schedule might be slower than normal; I'm gonna try to keep it constant but I make no guarantees.

He’s wet.

Part of his body submerged in cool water, and part of it lying in warm sand. He can feel warm sunlight shining on his back, and his ears are filled with the calm crash of waves. 

This was hardly the first time he’d woken in a strange place, but it never got any less disconcerting. He dragged his eyes open against the salt dried into his eyelashes, and looked up.

His breath froze in his lungs.

He was on an island.

And right in the middle was a tall mountain with a massive egg cupped in its peak.

_ What? How? _

“Link! You’re back!”

_ No. _

He tried not to turn his head, but his gaze still followed the beautiful sing-song voice even without his permission.

His heart stuttered when he saw her; pale blue dress fluttering in the breeze, sandaled feet racing across the sand, and bright red hair waving like fire.

She came to a stop and crouched down beside him.

“M-Marin,” he stutters, “how did I-?”

She chuckled, “By the looks of it you were shipwrecked again. You need to stop coming here like that.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, “Come on, it’s almost dinner time. I bet you’re hungry.”

 

_ This isn’t real. _

 

_ This isn’t real. _

 

_ This can’t be real. _

 

_ It never was. _

 

It seemed real though.

Marin pulled him to her house and called a greeting to her father. Soon the two of them were in the kitchen, and she was jokingly asking him if he’d managed to get any better at cooking since the last disaster.

Legend snorts, “I have this friend who’s really good at cooking. I’ve been stuck with him for almost a year...and I haven’t learned a damn thing.”

She laughs and gently flicks his nose, “Well then maybe it’s time you ask him to  _ teach _ you then, silly goose.”

He almost forgets that none of this is possible as the three of them sit around a table eating dinner; easy chatter floating around the room broken by teasing jibes and happy laughter. He almost forgets that he ever left. He almost forgets that neither of them had been real.

He and Marin are left to clean up the dishes, and the two of them sit in a contented silence as they scrub at the plates. Then Marin gets a mirthful gleam in her eyes and splashes water in his face. She falls to ground and laughter shakes her body as Legend stares at her in utter betrayal looking like a half drowned rat. Her laughter doesn’t ease, and Legend eyes the bucket of water she’d splashed him with. A smirk grows on his face as he reaches over, and, quick as lightning, dumps the bucket of water all over her.

She yelps and sputters as the cold water covers her body and drips into her mouth.

“Link!” she cries and it’s his turn to laugh as she pushes her hair out of her eyes to glare at him.

Then he has to duck out of the way as she flies at him. She chases him all the way down the beach; irritated shouts turning into mirth-filled laughter.

They’re back to splashing each other as soon as they hit the shoreline. Salty water spraying back and forth until the sun starts to set.

The vibrant blues, purples, oranges, reds, and pinks see the two of them leaning against a fallen tree with salt water still dripping from their hair.

He looks at her, and his throat closes around what feels like a hot coin.

She must see the look on his face because she smiles gently and places her hand on top of his, “What’s wrong?”

His voice is quiet when he answers, “None of this is real.”

She looks confused for a second, then she smiles again and tightens her fingers over his hand, “Of course it is.”

 

_ But it’s not. _

 

She looks at the sun sinking beneath the horizon.

 

_ It never was. _

 

She hums quietly, and then starts to sing. The lyrics she sings floating through the air in a dazzling harmony like a siren’s song, and Legend clings to every word.

_ Time together isn’t ever quite enough _

_ When you and I are alone, I’ve never felt so at home _

_ What will it take to make or break this hint of love? _

_ Only time, only time _

A deep pit is growing stomach, but this is the last time he’ll see her, the last time he’ll get to hear her sing. So he swallows the burning coin in his throat and sings with her.

_ When we’re apart whatever are you thinking of? _

_ If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone? _

_ So tell me darling do you wish we’d fall in love? _

_ All the time, all the time _

He swallows again and twists his hand to grip hers, twining their fingers together, as he listens to her sing for the last time.

 

_ It was real to me. _

 


	20. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!GUYS SERIOUSLY IF I COULD PUT THIS IN FLASHING RED LIGHTS I WOULD; this chapter is pretty gruesome and involves snake bites, venom, eyes getting gouged out, and is very graphic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The music won’t stop. It’s been echoing in his ears for what felt like at least three days now, but who really knew.

There’s a strap pulled tightly across his throat, short metal barbs digging into his flesh, and he hadn’t been able to breathe comfortably since it had been cinched in place.

Ghirahim is leaning on the back of the chair he’s bound to; body angled in such a way that Sky can just barely catch a glimpse of amused eyes and a satisfied smirk.

“What shall we do next I wonder,” the demon says with a faraway voice, “oh what to do, what to do…”

He leans down closer; his face coming to rest beside Sky’s neck as his hand wraps around and dances across Sky’s chest, metal claws leaving aching, bloody scratches wherever they touch. Sky goes as rigid as a blade, and before he can think better of it he wrenches his shoulder up as much as he can and slams it into Ghirahim’s jaw.

The demon lets out a surprised cry and darts back as Sky relaxes just enough for it to be visible.

A half sigh of relief slips from his lips and then freezes when that dreaded  _ snap _ echoes through his ears like a battle horn.

***************This is the start of the snake and snake bite part*************

He hears a quiet hiss and his eyes roll desperately in their sockets to find the source of the sound. A cold scaly feeling traces across his hand, and when he looks, melting out of the straps around his wrists, are two insultingly beautiful, blue pit vipers staring back at him with cold, golden-brown eyes.

He has time to think that their scales almost match the color of his eyes before the snakes lash out and bury their fangs in his biceps. He lets out a pained, croaking scream as the tiny daggers pierce his muscles, and feels the snakes pull at their purchase on his arms before they melt away like they’d never been there.

The pain starts in his arms and quickly,  _ too quickly, _ spreads to the rest of his body; an aching,  _ burning _ , trail of acid snaking through his blood. His sleeves around the bites feel tight, constricting, warm, clingy, and wet. He’s too hot and too cold at the same time; sweat beading along his forehead as breathing gets even harder and his heartbeat sounds rapidly in his ears like the wings of a hummingbird. He tastes metal in his mouth and idly wonders if he’s bitten his tongue.

He hears Ghirahim’s voice again, fuzzy and distant like he’s hearing it through wet cloth, “Oh I know what we can do.”

Metal claws land on his face; tracing lightly over the scabbed over diamond shaped cuts and circling around his right eye.

“What was the name of that friend of yours? The one-eyed one?”

_ Time? Why was Ghirahim bringing up Time? _

“The lot of you seem to respect him quite a bit.”

_ What did that have to do with anything? _

“Don’t you humans always seek to emulate the people you respect?”

It was getting even harder to breath.

“I know it wouldn’t last forever like his; considering that this is all in your head after all.”

_ It was? _

A single claw traces over his eyelid and through his eyelashes

“Still, it’s the thought that counts isn’t it?”

 

**********************This is the eye gouge part*****************************  
  


The claw above his eye curls and pierces through his eye and Sky  _ screams _ .

His head jerks in an attempt to get away from the monster looming over him, but succeeds only in dragging the claw further through the delicate organ.

A cold metal hand wraps over the left side of his head; a single claw nicking Sky’s ear and sending drops of blood cascading down.

_ He can’t stop moving. _

The cold grip on his head pulls open the scabs over the diamond cuts. He can still feel liquid fire coursing through his veins. A second claw is tracing closer to his already damaged eye.

The second claw stabs cleanly into his eye and Ghirahim’s wrist  _ twists _ ; dragging wicked claws through the remains of his eye and scratching over his other ear. Sky’s screams nearly doubling in volume, scratching at his already dry throat.

His right eye is practically sludge, and he can  _ feel _ the gelatinous substance slipping through Ghirahim’s fingers to fall down his cheek. Warm blood is dripping sluggishly down his ears.

His screams die down and he hears Ghirahim’s voice again, “Perhaps not in exactly the way I promised, but I did finally make your ears bleed.”

 


	21. Failure

Heat. Fire. Screams. Terror.

These are the things that greet him when he attempts to take in his surroundings. It’s midday, though it’s hard to tell. The sun shines bright, fiery orange amidst a sea of blood.

The sky is on fire.

Raging flames reaching towards the sun like reaching for a lifeline.

_ What? _

The screams are ringing in his ears; a morbid harmony of pain and death.

There’s people running all around him; slipping right by him like a river around rocks.

He reaches out

_ Where am I? What’s happening? _

and his hand phases right through them like a ghost.

_ What? _

More noise; rising over the din of terror, horrible, achingly familiar mechanical whirs and clacks.

He whips toward the sound; guardians, red and purple with malice dead eyes firing lasers into the dying city. And behind them; rising from the ground like a beacon of despair, is Hyrule Castle. Clouded in smoke and wreathed by a massive, swine serpent curling around the turrets with and enraged roar. Red sparks dance through the air shriveling grass and turning thriving plants to dust wherever they land.

_ How? Why am I here? _

People are still running, running for their lives as mechanical monsters close in on them.

A red targeting laser hones in on a man’s back. Wild darts forward; he doesn’t quite know why. He’s a ghost; he can’t help this man, he can’t even touch him. He still has to try. He has to try, but it won’t help. This man is going to die.

He doesn’t.

The laser powers up. It takes its shot, and the man is dragged to the ground just a moment before it kills him. The man falls to the ground beside the little girl who saved him. The girl, maybe eleven or twelve years old, grabs the man’s arm and pulls him to his feet.

“Come on!” she cries getting to her feet to run. The motions push her hair out of her face, and Wild can see what she looks like.

She...she looks like  _ him _ .

Bright blue eyes, round face, and blonde hair covered in soot and dust. She’s covered in cuts and scrapes, her eyes are wide and terrified, she’s wearing a pair of pants cut just below her knees and a flowing, dress-like shirt.

She runs, and, unable to help himself, Wild follows.

They run past fallen homes engulfed in flames. They run past singed corpses and melted, twisted weapons. Still she runs.

She’s young, but she’s fast and agile. She ducks around laser blasts and climbs over obstacles as well as he does.

They’re nearing the familiar gates of Castle Town when her breath hitches. Her wide eyes are watering and her teeth are clenched tightly. The tears start to fall, but she doesn’t stop running.

“Mama...Papa,” she whispers wetly, “Link...Big Brother, please be OK. Don’t leave me.”

Wild nearly freezes, but some dormant instinct won’t let him stop running...won’t let him fall behind her.

The tears are streaming down her face, but her running feet don’t falter.

 

Until that horrible, mechanical whir sounds, and there’s a guardian grinding to a halt in front of her. She skids to stop and doesn’t crash into it, but she’s too late to dodge as a glowing blue laster fires at her.

 

“No!” Wild is trying to run to her before he knows what he’s doing.

Time slows in a familiar way, but he is affected by it this time. The laser freezes mid air; seconds from the girl’s face.

Salty trails of water are dripping down Wild’s face, and he doesn’t quite know why.

‘Big Brother,’ she’d said.

_ Was he really… _

_ Was this really… _

“Big Brother,” her voice echoes, but her mouth doesn’t move, she’s as frozen as he is, “why do you look so sad?”

He can move again, and she’s standing in front of him; clean, happy, and healthy staring at him with confused worry.

He walks slowly towards her; tears dripping down his face and half memories floating in his mind.

 

_ He’s standing beside her; helping her support a bow as she aims it at a nearby tree. _

 

_ She wants to catch a bird; so he lifts her onto his shoulders and slips quietly up a tree. _

 

_ He’s training; swinging his sword back and forth with no feeling in his face or his movements. He’s been at it for hours; so she sneaks up behind him and throws an egg at the back of his head. When he turns around she’s standing the holding a stick like a sword with a mock-serious expression coating her face. _

 

He stops in front of her; the tears are sliding down his cheeks and  _ he can’t make them stop. _

“I failed,” he whispers wetly, “I failed all of you.”

Her expression morphs from confused worry to indignant denial in a heartbeat as she grabs his arm already speaking vehement denials, “Nuh uh. We all failed, you did everything you could. You did more than anyone else besides the princess. You even came back. You didn’t fail anybody.”

“I was supposed to stop this,” he says quietly, “I was supposed to save you.”

“You’re only one person!” she cries, “It’s not fair for people to put that kind of pressure on you!”

He starts to reply, “Sometimes things aren’t fair-”

“Well they should be!” she calls in outrage, “You didn’t do anything wrong!”

She tugs insistently on his sleeve until he looks at her, “You didn’t fail. You’re just mad at yourself because you think you did.”

He kneels down before her, and there’s another voice echoing in his ears when he pulls her into a hug.

Graceful hand motions flashing past his closed lids, the gentle, confident smile, and the sound of his voice speaking signed words.

_ ‘ _ _ You have to learn to give yourself the same forgiveness you would the others.’ _

The words Time has told him so many months ago; he’d left his actions while possessed by the malice infection behind and hadn’t brought them up again.

Had he forgiven himself though?

Had he truly done what Time had asked of him?

No.

He’d forced the guilt away, but he hadn’t forgiven himself. Not for what he had done while possessed by the malice, and especially not for what he hadn’t done during The Great Calamity.

He hugged his sister, the sister he hadn’t been able to save, closer. Her little arms wrapped around his torso.

It was about time he listen to Time’s advice.

 

The girls faded away; leaving him clutching at thin air.

Time started to move again; the laser crept toward his sister faster and faster bearing down on her like an oncoming storm.

And Wild watched with silent tears as his sister was killed.

 


	22. Now You Know

“Do you even know how frustrating it is?” Ghirahim’s ranting now, and Sky’s honestly surprised it took this long, “All that careful planning wasted! Because the stupid Goddess Sword exploded!”

Sky’s remaining eye widens and he speaks before he can stop himself.

“She what!?” he croaks.

Ghirahim pauses, “Oh right, you didn’t know about that yet.”

He smirks and twirls around to the front of the chair one hand gripping the back as he looms over Sky, “Well, let me tell you. That precious little sword of yours. I broke it.”

He snaps his fingers in Sky’s face making the hero flinch back violently.

“Just like snapping a twig.”

“No,” Sky mutters, “no. She can’t have. It’s impossible.”

“Oh yes it is,” Ghirahim sings, “and do you want to know why…”

The demon smiles and a single finger on his free hand dances up around Sky’s face tapping against his nose with every word Ghirahim says making Sky cringe with every sound.

“It’s all. Because. Of. You.”

“No. No. You’re lying.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Eh Skychild?”

The demon’s mood does a complete flip; his expression explodes with rage. He swipes his hand across Sky’s face metal claw raking into the skin, and spins around with a dramatic twirl.

His voice loses its amusement, taking on a furious edge, “And then it goes and explodes because of the energy release and ruins everything!”

Sky’s still in shock; he doesn’t know if he’s terrified, guilty, or angry and he blurts out the worst thing he could have said, “Well you really only have yourself to blame for that one.”

Ghirahim freezes, and the room freezes with him.

“I’m really not in the mood for your sass Skychild.” he says, low and quiet.

Sky’s shaking; tremors wracking his body.

 

Ghirahim appears in front of him; hand clasped over his mouth. The spirit’s eyes glow like hot embers.

“This may be in your head, but as you well know,” Ghirahim snaps his fingers and it echoes like a bomb going off.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel pain.”

Sky can’t see what Ghirahim is doing when he raises his other arm to Sky’s mouth.

 

He definitely feels the poke of a needle at his lips.

 


	23. Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Not dead...yet

It’s too quiet...but too loud at the same time.

He feels like he’s wandering around a wasteland; there’s husks and corpses of monsters all around him, from every point in time. Intangible blurs sped past him in a chaotic myriad of colors; whispers and screams floating just out of reach, echoing in his ears yet nothing but a dull buzz. Ice cold rain pounds to the ground around him.

Further past the assortment of dead monsters were the corpses.

Uncountable in number, turning dead, dry grass red with blood. Every body was bedecked in plain, metal armor, and all had their own circle of mourners holding vigil. He strode vacantly through the dead field; cries, screams and whimpers of grief his only true companions.

He could feel eyes on him; on his face, his back, his throat, all burning with an unfamiliar feeling of hatred. Hatred for the situation… Hatred for the loss of a friend…

Hatred for him.

He steps through the field of bodies and mourners uncertainty; what does he do? What happened? Why is everyone looking at him like it’s his fault?

There’s a miserable, angry sob behind him followed by a high whistle of air and something hard and heavy strikes against the base of his head.

Warriors stumbles forward with a pained grunt and a round, gray stone thuds against the ground at his feet. There’s a warm liquid dripping down his neck and clotting into his hair. His vision starts to blur; he reached back to touch the wet spot and his fingers come away coated in brightly glowing red as his eyes struggle to focus.

Another stone collides with his pauldron. Another with the back of his other shoulder. He drags his shaky vision up, and the weeping sentinels had abandoned their vigils and gazed at him with sneering, tear-streaked faces and hateful eyes.

Warriors can’t see straight; icy cold fear and confusion poking at his chest like a dagger.

The stones come faster, harder; angry shouts and hateful jeers chasing the sounds of impacts and sharp bludgeons of pain.

Every strike, every hit sends Warriors’ vision spinning and his feet stumbling over the dead grass. He stumbles back, arms up trying to protect his head, and his foot hits upon something soft, pliable, and unsteady. He loses his balance and topples over the object; his ribs striking against hard metal.

The angry shouts of the mob around him double in volume and rage, and when Warriors goes to push himself up his eyes are met with a blurry, graying face. The only thing he can see clearly are the eyes; dead brown staring accusingly into his soul.

Warriors scrambles away from the corpse; darting away only for his hand to land on another arm sending him reeling back to the ground.

He sees eyes again, green this time: like the color of the hero’s tunic, staring into his; questioning, accusing, and hateful.

He barely feels the rocks hitting his skin anymore. All he can feel is the unfamiliar, burning, hared boring its way into his heart.

He doesn’t know what to do.

 

_ He doesn’t know what to do. _

 

Before he knows it he’s up and running. Running away from the mob. Running away from the strange, alien hatred. The loud, echoing, angry voices don’t leave him; even as they grow watery and distant they echo in his ears, buzzing through his mind like a swarm of wasps.

The ground falls away under his feet, and he’s falling; tumbling head over heels down the muddy slope, sharp rocks and pebbles dig into his skin through his armor. He skids to a stop at the bottom of the incline in a shallow puddle of mud.

Warriors groans pushing himself to his elbows. The world spins around him like he’s been trapped in a kaleidoscope, cold rain is hitting against aching bruises like icicles, and everything sounds like it’s been tossed through a whirlpool before reaching his ears.

The jeers of the angry mob echo above him. He drags his head up, and the swarm of people are crowded around the edge of the cliff he’s just fallen from. There’s laughter; he hears someone spit, where it ends up he’s no idea.

Warriors opens his mouth

_ To call for help? _

_ To ask why? _

_ To ask what’s happening? _

_ He doesn’t know. _

but nothing comes out except a pathetic little whine.

The people retreat; leaving him alone. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or terrified.

“It’s not fun is it?” 

The voice is right next to him.

“Being hated, and not knowing why. Or knowing why, and not being able to help it.”

He turns his head.

“Cia?” he asks faintly.

The sorceress is sitting on a rock beside him; leaning back to gaze at the cloudy sky. The rain and mud doesn’t seem to touch her; sliding right off, unable to taint her skin.

“You get used to it after awhile,” she continues, not responding to his voice, “though somehow I doubt you want to do that.”

She finally turns to look at him; her eyes are sad, sympathetic with none of the madness and heartache he’d seen in them before she left with Lana.

He can’t bring himself to muster a verbal reply. His head sinks down to look at the muddy ground.

Cia sighs and Warriors feels a gentle hand on the back of his head carefully avoiding the jagged gash left by that first stone.

“Don’t forget that there’s people who will love you no matter what,” she says.

She’s quiet for a few moments silently running her fingers through his hair as he wrestles with her words.

Suddenly she stands up. She stands tall in front of him, and holds her hand out to him.

“You and your other incarnations all have such kind, pure souls,” she remarks seriously, “don’t let yourself lose that because of one trial.”

He can remember so many days surrounded by friends; those from his own world and his new ones all over time.

He reaches up and grasps her hand.

 


	24. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *realizes I could have made this part of the last chapter*  
> *shrugs*  
> too late, here goes nothing

It was cold; he tasted blood.

Was all of this really in his head?

_ Then why does it hurt so much? _

_ Why can’t I make it stop? _

A knife carves into his knee, and he can’t make a sound.

 


	25. Entrapment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of finals week wreathed in flames and sick* I lived bitch  
> Sorry this one took so long, this chapter was actually supposed to be for Hyrule but he's giving me some killer writer's block, so... I put him off

It was dark.

There were walls all around him, but he couldn’t see them. He could only feel the rough grain of wood beneath his wandering hands as he tried to gauge how much space he had.

The answer was; very little.

He couldn’t even fully extend his arms or legs. He was trapped in a small wooden box, and it reminded him so much of that abysmal first attempt to rescue his sister from the Helmaroc King when Tetra had stuck him in a barrel and launched him from a catapult.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be flying this time; drifting maybe, or just not moving at all.

He didn’t like that.

He didn’t like being trapped in this box. Why would he? There was so much more to see, to do; vast skies, deep canyons, giant mountains, sprawling forests, oceans...as far as the eye could see.

Such a stark contrast to this tiny box he was in.

He loved sailing; the ocean made him feel invincible. This, made him feel weak, tiny.

He kicked his legs against the wooden wall sending loud crashes echoing through the tiny space, but there was no crack, no splinter, nothing.

He kicked and kicked at the wood until his breath was stuttering from his lungs in ragged pants… He hadn’t made even a dent in it.

His ragged breathing picked up; the dark shadows in the small space felt as though they were curling around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

_ Calm down. Calm down. You need to calm down. _

 

He manages to stop hyperventilating, but everything still feels small.

 

The last time he’d felt like this he’d had company. A small avalanche in Twilight’s time had trapped he and Wild in a cave. His breathing had turned ragged, and he’d been close to trying to blow up part of the cave to get some space.

Wild though… Wild had merely sat on the floor of the cave with closed eyes and quietly tapped the ground beside him until Wind sat down.

Wild had mentioned feeling the same way; hating small spaces, feeling trapped. He’d also talked about how to deal with it; told Wind to close his eyes. He talked about how to let his mind be free; to remember the sprawling forests and endless seas, instead of the hard walls and limited space. That was how the two of them had spent the several hours waiting for it to be safe to make their escape.

It was this same tactic that Wind used now. The simple words Wild had said that meant so much drifting through his mind.

_ You’re only as trapped as you let yourself be. _

 


	26. It's All Because Of You

The next thing he knew he was face planting in water that was simultaneously pitifully shallow and endlessly deep.

He made an effort to push himself to his feet, but his arms were sore and swollen from the snakebites and refused to listen to him. Even if they had his knee had been carved to the bone, and he could barely move it. There was no way it would be able to support his weight.

Clashing metal echoed vacantly in his ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay it any mind.

That is until a clawed hand found its way into his hair and dragged him towards the source of the noise. He grimaced; lips pulling painfully on the low of tiny lock-stitch sutures woven slowly and meticulously into his mouth. His hands darted to the claws clutching his hair, but as soon as he made to touch anything the tips of his fingers exploded in pain; thin strands of hair dragging painfully across the bare flesh beneath his fingernails.

He winced; involuntarily pulling the delicate thread further through his flesh.

Ghirahim dragged him closer to the sound of sword fighting, and yanked his head up, curling his other hand beneath Sky’s chin. Bloodshot, pain filled eyes were forced up to see the ongoing conflict. He looked up and saw...himself.

He saw himself win.

_ Why was Ghirahim showing him this? _

He shouldn’t have been able to hear the words from here, but somehow he did. The familiar, rage filled words thundering around him. Demise faded away, drowned in holy light, but the last echoes of his curse were no quieter.

_ “Doomed to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all eternity.” _

The image of his past self faded away. Shadow and blood spread through the crystal clear water like an infection; arcs of black and red swirling through the liquid in a deceptively beautiful dance until there was nothing left of the calm water.

Then he saw the others; blood dripping down their forms as the stood, lost among the shadows of the bloody sea.

“Do you finally understand?” he flinched as Ghirahim’s icy, snake-hiss voice sounded beside his ear.

“You doomed them all.”

He did, he did understand.

He’d never known what that curse had meant; he did now, and oh how he wished he didn’t. Their conflicts; Time’s hatred, Twilight and Wind’s loss, Legend’s never ending quest,  Hyrule’s endless wandering, Four’s division, Warriors’ war, Wild’s death, it was all because of him.

“They’re all here because of you, because of the curse you brought down upon them.”

Should he tell them? Would they hate him? Would he even live long enough to try? Even if he did live that long, how would he say that?

How do you tell your closest friends, the only people who really understand what you’ve been through, the people you trust more than anyone, that your the reason for their suffering? How do you tell them that you doomed them, their friends, and all of humanity? How do you tell them you’re responsible for a never ending cycle of pain and hatred?

 

How do you even begin to apologize for that?

 

“It’s all because of you.”

 


	27. Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TheEmeraldKat for letting me pick her brain while I was fleshing out this chapter.

An endless trail lay before him.

That was ok though; that was who he was, the traveler.

That was it really.

He traveled, and right now there was a path to be traveled so on and on he went, one step after the other.

_ What is he doing? _

_ Why is he just walking? _

_ He should be looking for a way out. _

_ He should be looking for a way to help his friends. _

He’s not though; he’s just… walking.

_ Did they really need him anyway? _

He was a traveler; barely passable with a sword. He wasn’t a hero; not really.

The wind blows harshly, and as it always does, it carries whispered messages to those willing to listen,  _ “Are you just going to give up then?” _

He stops walking.

_ “Are you just going to leave them?” _

_ Was he? Could he do anything to help them anyway? _

The wind carried more than whispered this time; it carried memories, valuable memories. He and Wild; stumbling through a muddy cave, him being the first one to make the elusive hero laugh. Him kneeling over Sky coating the vicious bite mark with magic because he was the best healer. Him laying on the ground beside Time stargazing, because the older man had needed some silent company. So many things passing through his mind. Things that meant much more to him than someone calling him a hero because of the Triforce on his hand or the sword on his back.

_ “They need you?” _

When he looked up the path wasn’t endless anymore.

He had a goal; he knew where he was going, even if he didn’t know how to get there.

He knew what he needed to do… and so, he could do anything.

 


	28. Forgiveness

He doesn’t know where he is, but at the same time he knows exactly where he is.

He’s in the atrium of the Temple of Time, but everything is just… wrong. It’s fuzzy, blurry, and definitely not the real atrium. Nevertheless the dais with The Master Sword stands before him; the glimmering beacon of his regrets.

“You’re angry with me.”

He whirls around to face the owner of the voice; a young, blonde woman with blue eyes draped in a plain white dress. Her hair hangs loose with two strands hanging by her face delicately twisted with glittering ribbons.

He knows this woman; not personally, only by description.

“Zelda?”

But that doesn’t feel quite right.

“Hylia.” he changes.

She nods with a sad smile.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Her smile fades, “To explain I suppose, and… to apologize.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“Why? Why now?”

“Now is the only time I can.”

He’s certain she can see his confusion.

“Will you listen?” she asks.

He isn’t quite sure how to answer. He doesn’t owe her anything. Why should he sit here and listen to her sorry excuses when he could be finding a way out?

“There isn’t a way out. Not one that you can find.”

“I’m trapped here then.”

“No. Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“These are called the Silent Realms; they’re intended to help the Hero of Courage prepare prepare for whatever challenges he may face.”

“How come I’ve never heard of them?”

“They can only be accessed with Fi, and because of her sealed sleep you and the other heroes after… Sky you all call him, have been cut off from them. These realms provide a trial, and you can only leave once it’s been completed. I’m yours.”

“W-what?”

“I’m your trial, because you need to learn to forgive.”

He’s quiet, confused, almost angry.

_ Forgive? _

She keeps speaking, either not noticing or not caring for his inner turmoil, “You’re kind, slow to anger, rarely hold a grudge. Not just because you’re a forgiving person, but because you have someone else to lay the blame on.”

“You think that’s wrong.” he can’t quite hide the scorn in his voice.

She smiles that same sad smile, “No, on the contrary, whatever hatred you have for me; I cannot say it is undeserved.”

“Then why-”

“Because you need to understand something, not so you’ll forgive me, because you deserve to know.”

She looks down and grabs his hands, and he feels nine years old again, standing in front of a destiny much to big for him. 

Then she looks up and there’s tears in her eyes, “I never wanted this.

 

“You, the Unbreakable Spirit of the Hero, you were only supposed to be needed the one extra time. This cycle was supposed to stop after Sky. I gave up my immortality after the first battle with Demise so that I would be able to better help my people when he came back, and with the Hero’s help that was supposed to be it. Then something happened, and it was turned into an eternal cycle. I can’t tell you what happened, that’s not for me to say, but I believe you will soon know. It was supposed to end here, but now it can’t and I can’t do anything to change it.”

Tears are falling gently from her eyes.

“But why can’t you change it; you’re a goddess?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “Not anymore; when I gave up my immortality I gave up my right to be a goddess. I am no more than a particularly powerful ghost; I can help my heroes. I can provide power, but that power must be given to me first. I can only alter energy given to me; I can do nothing else. Only watch; I can only appear here because it isn’t quite real.”

She looks into his eyes and there is no deceit; only honesty, sadness, and guilt, she brushes her hand along the side of his face pushing his bangs away from his scarred eye, “I am so, so sorry, but I need to ask one last favor of you.”

He nods, what else can he do?

“You’re anger, you’re hatred of me is well deserved, but it will cause many problems very soon. So please, even if you forget this ever happened, even if you hate me forever, for the sake of all of them: for Sky, Twilight, Warriors, Wild, Hyrule, Wind, Four, Legend, for the world, for you, please, forgive me for a few days, forgive me for long enough to save him.”

 


	29. Moving On

When he woke up the sun hadn’t even moved.

Everything around him was fuzzy and unfocused.

Time pushed himself off the ground; blinking the fuzz out of his eyes. Around him the other Links were doing the same; moans and groans slipping from their throats and, if he wasn’t mistaken, several of the were blinking away tears.

They were, he knew they were, Twilight, Wild, and Legend seemed to have it the worst, but just like the rest when they stood, they stood just a little bit taller than before.

Legend groaned, “What the hell just happened?!”

“I believe I can answer that.”

Muscles tensed, eyes widened, and hands went to weapons as they whipped towards the airy, monotone voice. The figure was female; blue and purple and black, and floating just above the ground.

“Please do not be alarmed,” shae says, “I believe Master Sky has told you about me.”

“Fi,” Hyrule questioned, “the spirit of The Master Sword?”

“Yes,” she replied, “What you all experienced was a trial of the Silent Realms. The explosion that resulted from my blade being broken, and the divine energy it released, was enough to force your souls into another plane of existence. The same occurred with the other spirit housed inside the blade, Demise. Fortunately I was able to ensure that all of you would be sent to the same location in the real-!”

She cried out, her form glitching briefly out of existence and falling out of the air passing clean through the stone ground before she regained her stable location a few inches above it.

“Are you OK!?” Wind asked worriedly.

“My physical vessel in this world is broken; without it my spiritual manifestation has no anchor here.” she spoke with the same monotone voice as she had before, but her words came out faster.

The Links spared a glance at the sword lying on the ground several meters away; snapped in two with shattered splinters of metal scattered about like flowers around a coffin.

“Can we fix it? Can you use a replacement?” Four asked stepping closer to the spirit.

“A replacement is possible,” the spirit replied, whimpering as she blurred in and out of existence again, “It would have to be a unique, high quality blade.”

“We’ve got plenty of those.” Warriors says.

“It also cannot have any magical effects.” Fi continued.

That put a damper on their plans; they may have had unique blades, but those ones had magical qualities. The ones that didn’t were common, standard issue weapons.

Time bit his lip, a desperate voice from only moments ago ringing in his ears,  _ ‘I never wanted this.’ _

He bit his lip once more and pulled the Biggoron Sword from his back, “Would this work?”

The others stared at him; he made no effort to hide the fact that he didn’t like The Master Sword and never had.

_ ‘It’s time to move on.’ _ he thought.

Fi looked at the sword thoughtfully then placed one wavering wing overtop of the metal.

A bright glow lit where her wing met the sword, nearly blinding. She looked up at him as the light grew brighter, and she smiled. Her form flickered and wavered, but she showed no pain this time. She vanished into the cold metal; leaving behind a bright light and two softly echoing words.

_ “Thank you.” _

 


	30. Friends

“How are you here anyway?” Wind asks, “I thought The Master Sword was supposed to be unbreakable.”

The group of heroes were sat in a circle; Fi herself hovering in the air beside Time.

“The state of my blade reflects that of my wielder,” she responds, “which is why we must hurry in helping Master Sky. If my blade could be broken...it does not bode well for him.”

There’s silence; no one knows what to say. The worry for their friend eating through them.

“What do we do?” Hyrule asks looking determinately, “How do we help him?”

“Many of the temples in this time are home to sacred, purifying springs. When Demise was first rising Her Grace used these to purify herself, and give her better access to her divine powers in her mortal form. I calculate an 87% chance that if you were able to get Master Sky in contact with even one of these bodies of purifying water Ghirahim would be forced to free him.”

“How are we going to do that? The last actual fight we had with him didn’t exactly end well.” Twilight points out.

“Not really,” Warriors counters, “up to a point we were doing pretty well. We had him pinned for a bit, but we just didn’t have any idea what we needed to do after that.”

“But the same plan won’t work twice,” Legend states, “we don’t even know where they are.”

Four starts, “The plan is the easy part-”

Fi flashes through the little circle; staring down into the surrounding desert.

“Masters,” she says, “someone is coming.”

“Monsters?” Time asks as the others hands slide toward their weapons.

“No,” she says, and she sounds almost happy as she stares at the blurry flashes of red, yellow, and pink, “friends.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, realizing that my throw away line about a pretty common headcanon about The Master Sword has some serious angst potential for Wild: ...


	31. Someone Else

The girl leading the charge looks familiar to all of them; like the face of an almost forgotten childhood friend. The two boys following her are completely unfamiliar; one dressed in what they know to be a yellow knight’s uniform and the other in an odd combination of blue and yellow with a slicked red pompadour.

The girl stops short when she sees them, confusion and concern dancing in her eyes, “Who-?”

“Your Grace.” Fi interrupts floating over to her.

“Fi?” she asks, “What happened? Why did I feel The Master Sword break?”

“It did.” Legend says.

She looks between the eight heroes, the boys at her side looking to her for guidance.

Finally she looks at each of the heroes in turn and speaks, “Tell me everything.”

* * *

 

“Link was what now!?” is the exclamation that comes from Groose as they round off the story.

“Possessed,” Warriors responds dryly, “it surprised us too.”

“Do you know how to fix it?” Pipit asks worriedly.

“According to Fi any of the purifying springs in the temples should be enough to help him.” Time replies, the spirit nodding quietly beside him.

Zelda herself is staring steadfastly at the ground like it personally offended her.

“That sounds about right.” she says.

Pipit stares at her for a second, “What’s wrong? If that’s right then we know what to do; we can help him.”

“I…” she trails off.

“You can’t come with us.” Twilight finishes for her.

“What? Why?” Groose exclaims and Pipit is only a second behind him.

Zelda gives no reply, instead asking, “Fi, what are the chances that Ghirahim will seek to attack Skyloft?”

“I calculate a 34% chance of him taking this course of action.” Fi replies dutifully.

“Those are so low though. What’s the problem?” Pipit asks Zelda.

She opens her mouth to reply, but she doesn’t have to.

“It’s not zero.” Time says for her.

She nods sadly, “I’m sorry. You have no idea how much I wish I could go with you, but-”

“You can’t leave your people without their best line of defense,” Hyrule finishes, “It’s ok, we understand.”

“We actually know what we’re doing now; we’ll be fine.” Legend adds.

“You say that as though we’ve ever known what we’re doing,  _ ever _ in our lives.” Four snarks leaving him with a patch of aching arm in the shape of Legend’s fist.

Zelda smiles slightly, “If you need help…”

“We’ll let you know.” Wild says quietly.

“Probably by blowing something up.” Wind adds.

Zelda smiles again, “Good luck.”

Then she forces herself to turn back to Skyloft with her two friends. Forces herself to leave the fate of her best friend to someone else.


	32. Last Chance

The place he’s in is peaceful.

Somehow it’s so peaceful that it feels  _ wrong _ .

There’s a massive statue in the middle; surrounded by clear water dotted with lotus flowers and lily pads.

Darting around the platforms at the edges is Ghirahim; teleporting from place to place, mumbling to himself, kicking at the ground, and having a small tantrum.

He stills, “Master.”

His eyes glow slightly red.

For a second Wild feels as though the answering worlds come from his own mouth, “Ghirahim, you’ve destroyed the sword.”

“Yes Master,” Ghirahim responds, “she will not be troubling us any longer.”

“And the heroes, you had the ritual already set up!” an unfamiliar rage that doesn’t belong to him bubbles up in his chest.

“I didn’t account for the sword exploding.” he whimpers.

The raging words are ripped from Wild’s throat, “And because of that you’ve failed.”

Black smoke floats around Ghirahim; flashes of wounds glow through the smog and Ghirahim falls to his knees with a pained cry.

A flash of a hollow eye socket. Glowing pin pricks around his lips. Simmering abrasions around his wrists. Molten carvings in his knee.

“N-not yet,” he whimpers, “it can still work. They’ll still come.”

The smoke is gone, leaving Ghirahim panting on the ground, “You’ve failed me twice now. This, is your last chance.”

“Yes Master.” Ghirahim responds quietly.

The room begins to fade and Wild’s dart around memorizing every detail. The last thing he’s able to focus on is Ghirahim; crumpled in Sky’s body whimpering from the pain of wounds that weren’t his.


	33. At Long Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky finally gets his hug.

He wakes up. He tells them.

 

Wild sketches the place he’d seen in the dirt; Warriors watches over his shoulder intently. The others are circled around them; shoulders tense and watching the drawing take shape. Warriors is the first to speak; the others join with their own ideas and slowly something solid takes form.

 

At long last they have a plan.

* * *

 

Ghirahim is still at the Ancient Cistern when they arrive; crouched atop one of the floating platforms amidst the sea of sacred water.

Step one… 

Had been to not be noticed.

That flies clean off the planet when Ghirahim turns to them. His borrowed features are twisted into a horrible grimace. His lips are bloody; coated in dripping red scratches like he’d been trying to claw them off.

“Well now,” he says through the cracked and bloody lips, “took you long enough.”

He doesn’t have a sword, but his claws gleam wickedly in the light of the temple.

“I’d take the time to watch your souls crumble, but I’m rather short on time.” he says stalking towards them like a lion.

The Links grab their weapons and in the blink of an eye Wild has already sent an arrow flying towards Ghirahim. Ghirahim swats the arrow from the air, almost boredly, but the arrow had done its job.

“Really? That’s your pla-”

He’s cut off by a waver in the air beside him, and Legend flying out from under his magic cape to slam his shoulder into Ghirahim’s sternum. In quick succession, before he can regain his breath, blows rain down; an punch here, a kick there, a blunt tipped arrow in the chest, each one pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Stumbling on the edge of the platform one final kick to his shin is enough to knock Ghirahim’s foot into the water.

He hasn’t even had time to regain his breath.

His foot hits the water, and he goes rigid. There’s no attempt to stop the rest of his body from falling into the water; he collapses into it with a large, ungraceful splash. His eyes are blown wide; pain already glimmering in brown irises that aren’t the right color. The water begins to boil around him; pushing him to the surface.

Then he screams.

The others bolt to edge of the platform. Sky’s body is writhing through the boiling liquid steam rising from his skin as the metallic black casing his arms is leached away, sinking down through the water like blood. Soon the black-red smog is being leached away from every part of his body; pulled towards the bottom of the basin by some unseen force.

The screams begin to quiet, the boiling water calms, and before either is completely gone Wind and Legend are diving into the water to pull Sky’s unconscious body back to the platform. Twilight grabs him under the arms and Time is already there looking for damage and trying to wake him.

The vicious claw marks around his lips have been healed, but there’s dark circles under his eyes like bruises and he’s considerably thinner and lighter than before. Besides his obvious lack of food and sleep for the last three and a half days the only outward mark of his trials are the long, sharp, metallic, blackened claws where his fingernails used to be.

Time gently shakes Sky’s shoulder, but the younger hero gives no response.

Until his eyes snap open; blue and clear and familiar and  _ panicked _ .

Before anyone can say anything he’s struggling and writhing away from them; choked cries and pleads scratching out of his throat.

The others are forced to duck away to avoid the flying claws as Time catches Sky’s hands.

“Sky! Sky! It’s me! It’s Time! You’re back!” he’s calling out, but the noise and the grip on his hands only makes Sky struggle more.

A bright flash and then Fi is there; kneeling at  Sky’s side.

“Master?” she calls.

Her familiar, soft, melodic voice seems to do the trick. Sky’s struggling stops and Time loosens his grip on Sky’s fingers into something supportive and gentle instead of restraining. Sky’s breaths still thud in and out of his chest in ragged pants like he can’t get enough air.

“Fi?” he rasps, then his eyes find the figure kneeling above him and the circle of heroes coming closer around him, “Time?”

Time nods and answers quietly, “Yeah. You’re back, he’s gone.”

Water pools in Sky’s eyes, and suddenly he’s yanking his hands from Time’s grip and wrapping his arms tightly around the steadying presence. His new claws scrape across Time’s armor leaving shallow grooves when he can’t seem to cling tightly enough. Time ignores the sounds of scraping metal in favor of curling his arms around Sky; supporting his shaking form as he pulls himself up to press closer to Time.

Arms tighten around Time even further while salty drops of water glide across the shoulder of his armor as, for the first time since the beginning of his nightmare, a wounded hero let his tears fall.


	34. Skyloft

Sky has fallen asleep lying in Time’s arms by the time they leave the cistern. This brings up another problem very quickly.

They don’t know how to get to the city Sky and Zelda had started on the surface.

Fi appears and proposes her ability of dowsing, but Wild simply shakes his head and states that he knows a faster way.

As it happened, this ‘faster way’, was for him to turn and shoot a bomb arrow into a nearby cliffside. The ear-splitting  _ boom _ was followed by the sound dropping rocks as Wild sat down calmly.

“And now we wait.” he said simply.

They didn’t have to wait long. Barely twenty minutes later Zelda was running towards them. Her face was etched in worry, but it smoothened out just slightly when she saw Sky. She knew immediately what they were going to ask.

“Skyloft will have better medical supplies, and being back there might do him some good. Follow me.” she says.

She leads them for several minutes until they come across a bird statue. Zelda reaches into her bag and grabs several strips of cloth. None are as beautiful or lovingly made as the one wrapped around Sky’s shoulders, but they serve the same purpose.

“I’ll go up first,” she explains as she hands the cloths out to any who need one, “wait about ten minutes then follow me. I’ll make sure there will be knights there to catch you.”

With that she jumps up beside the statue and unfurls her own cloth as a powerful gust of wind propels her into the sky.

The Links sit in silence for ten minutes before following her. Just as she’d promised a squadron of knights with their loftwings are there to catch them. They are dropped off at the edge of the floating island; where Zelda waits. As soon as they hit the ground Zelda is speedily leading them towards the infirmary, which is blessedly empty.

Time lays Sky on one of the beds and one of the staff is there almost instantly looking him over.

Zelda gestures them over to the other side of the room, “What’s happened to Ghirahim? And the other soul in The Master Sword? And The Master Sword?”

Four speaks up, “I have the pieces to The Master Sword, I’m going to see if I can fix it. As for what happened to the other soul, we don’t know.”

“Ghirahim’s soul was removed from Sky’s body, but we don’t know what happened to it after.” Time adds.

“You were in the Ancient Cistern?” Zelda asks.

They nod.

“I think I know where he is.” she says.

“Well then let’s track him down and kill him for good.” Warriors growls.

“No,” Zelda says insistently, she looks back at Sky, “the more people with him the better. Demise and Ghirahim’s physical bodies have been destroyed, only their souls remain. That’s something I can handle on my own.”

“Are you sure?” Time inquires.

Zelda smiles slightly, “Let someone else do this part for once.”

She looks at Sky sadly again, “Look after him, please.”

“We will.” Twilight promises, the others nod.

“Go kick some demon ass!” Wind encourages.

Zelda smiles again, happier this time, “Consider the demon ass kicked.”

Zelda walks to Sky’s bedside and gently kisses his forehead. Sky shifts slightly towards her. Zelda smiles and rests a hand on his cheek.

“I’ll be back.” she whispers as he presses closer to her hand.

Then she turns and strides out of the room like a woman on a mission; leaving eight heroes with their brutalized friend.


	35. The Rage of a Goddess

She steps through the depths of Hell with no regard for where she is. Cursed, zombified bokoblins dart out of her way as she approaches; their rotting bodies moving with far more speed and agility than should be possible.

She pays them no mind.

She has only one goal. Only one creature here is to feel her wrath. And that creature is not hard to find.

He is formless, without any anchor or solidity. Shapeless black fog chased with streaks of smoky, crimson red like vaporized blood. She stand before him, resplendent, like a queen-no...like a goddess.

It’s hard for him not to notice her.

“Oh, what’s this,” his voice echoes mockingly, “has the little goddess come to pass judgement?”

She says nothing.

“Why? You don’t even know what I did,” he chuckles giddily, “I wish you did though… oh the things I did to him. I wish you could’ve heard him scream.”

 

When next he looks at the girl there’s tears rolling down her cheeks.

 

“Tears? From the infallible goddess here to kill me? How pathetic.” he mocks.

“Ghirahim,” she says quietly earning a curious grunt from the disembodied smog, her voice steady and strong despite her tears, “answer me this: do you know fear?”

He laughs, loud and ambient and mocking, “No.”

 

When next he looks at the goddess her hands are aflame with divine power, and her watery eyes are lit with righteous fury.

 

Her voice comes out cold; an icy, powerful voice all creatures know to fear.

 

_ “Then it’s about time you did.” _


	36. Awake

A hand clamped over his mouth.

A hot, burning weight in his mouth.

 

Burning…

 

Burning…

 

Burning…

 

Laughing.

 

His eyes snap open.

_(eyes?)_

His mouth wide; taking in gasping breaths.

_(open?)_

He topples out of the bed collapsing onto his stomach.

_(bed?)_

 

His mouth is still burning.

Someone calls his name and he doesn’t quite hear them…

 

…he’s already dunking his face into a basin of blessedly cold water, gulping down as much as he could to get rid of that _horrible, terrible burning._

Someone’s calling his name again… hands dragging him out of the water.

Water splashes onto the floor as he’s dragged away coughing and spluttering as his stomach complains at the sudden quantity of water. He doubles over vomiting water while someone rubs his back. The vicious heaving eventually dies down and Sky’s left panting and covered in water.

The hand hasn’t left his back.

He can’t tell who it is.

 

He’s throwing himself away from them before his mind can catch up. He skids across the ground away from them and there’s a harsh scratch of metal on stone.

_(why?)_

“Sky!” the figure whispers intensely.

It’s a familiar voice, but Sky’s frazzled mind can’t place it for a second. He sits, tense for several seconds; waiting for the nickname to turn into ‘Skychild’ but even after almost a minute it doesn’t.

“Sky?” they whisper again.

That familiar voice bounces around his mind before he finally places it.

“Legend?” he questions, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, pained, scratchy, and quiet.

“Yeah.” Legend responds.

He slowly moves to stand then moves a few steps to flip on a light, and Sky’s eyes follow him the whole time.

The dull light illuminates the infirmary just enough for Sky to tell that that’s where he is. It also illuminates the other seven heroes; crowded into the small infirmary, collapsed on uncomfortable beds pushed closer to the one Sky  had flown off of in his panic.

Legend moves slightly in his periphery. He tries to remain in Sky’s direct line of sight, but as he slowly reaches out his hand it’s too late.

Sky sucks in a breath and one hand is lashing out to wrap around the wrist coming towards him digging his nails into the flesh.

A pained gasp, far more pained than it should be, breaks him out of his panic. When he looks Sky sees the black metallic claws attached to his fingers digging partially into Legend’s wrist, blood dripping out in small rivulets.

Sky gasps and yanks his hand away; scooching back and staring at his blood-soaked claws fearfully. In front of him Legend hisses, wrapping his hand around his bleeding wrist.

“I-I’m sorry.” Sky croaks absentmindedly, still staring in horror at claws that shouldn’t be there.

“It’s fine.” Legend hisses snatching a roll of bandages off a nearby table to properly wrap his wrist.

Once done Legend moves slowly closer, not reaching out to touch him this time. He taps insistently on the floor dragging Sky’s gaze from the claws to him.

“You seeing me?” he asks quietly, his expression, normally the physical embodiment of sarcasm, is smoothed over into what would look like boredom on anyone else, but on Legend shows the barely restrained concern prancing through his mind.

“Y-yeah.” Sky responds, unable to stop his eyes from flickering back and forth between Legend and the claws; his gaze is wavering though.

Legend sighs and reaches slowly for Sky’s hand, stopping several inches before making actual contact.

“Come on, you can process that when your not in a 49 hour deficit on sleep.”

“Huh?” Sky questions even as he cautiously grabs onto Legend’s hand.

He doesn’t reply as he gently pulls Sky off the ground, easily countering when one of Sky’s knees nearly gives out at the weight. He supports Sky as he limps back to the bed, despite there being no real pain in the lame knee.

Legend helps him back into the bed, “Go back to sleep.”

Sky opens his mouth to protest, but the exhaustion that had abandoned him in his adrenaline rush following his nightmare is already back and sweeping him under.


	37. Yours

The next time Sky wakes up the vision in his right eye is fuzzed and blurry. His eyes find the metal claws attached to his fingers, but his fuzzy right eye is like looking through dirty glass.

He finds himself staring.

It’s strange.

Those wicked metal claws which had hurt him so much attached to his own fingers. The same glimmering black that had carved into his eye the only thing that eye could seem to see.

He’s not sure how long he sat there staring. He’s also not sure how long Warriors had spent trying to get his attention. 

When Sky finally does look up at him Warriors’ face is scrunched in worry; hand half raised as if to touch him.

When he sees he’s finally gotten Sky’s attention he slowly lowers his hand.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he offers quietly.

Sky looks down and shakes his head softly, turning his gaze back to the claws, “It’s just weird.”

Warriors sits back with a considering hum; then a few seconds later he’s up and across the room digging through his bag. Sky watches him curiously, and the curiosity only grows when he returns with something hidden in his hands. Sky’s shoulders tense, but Warriors merely sits back down in his seat and opens his hands to reveal several bottles of nail polish.

“White, blue, or pink?” he asks.

Sky can only stare in confusion, “What?”

“Do you want white, blue, or pink? If you don’t pick one; I’ll pick for you.”

“What?”

“Alright you’re getting pink.”

Warriors sets the bottles on the bedside table; then unscrews the cap on the pink one pulling the brush from its confines. Then he holds out his right hand palm up.

“Give me your hand for a minute.” he requests.

Sky barely thinks about it before he’s gently placing one of his hands in Warriors, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replies as he delicately starts painting the claw on Sky’s index finger.

“I-I know but why?”

“Why not,” he says eyes focused on his work, “they’re yours after all. You can do whatever you want with them.”

Warriors continues to work on in silence; he finishes one hand then moves onto the other. It takes most of the bottle of nail polish, but when he finishes he holds Sky’s hand up to his eyes with a grin.

“See,” he says, “not so intimidating now are they?”

They really aren’t.

Instead of glimmering black his claws are pastel pink, and interspersed in the color are little flecks of glitter. It reminds him of Zelda a little: the pink dress she’d worn for the goddess ceremony when she’d given him his sailcloth, the colorless glitter lip gloss he’d given her for her birthday that had quickly become her favorite.

It reminds him of home.

“I may have to start raiding you nail polish stash.” he says.

“That’s fine,” Warriors responds, “just don’t touch my dark blue.”


	38. Pun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's that time again. This story is ending soon. I have a fairly solid idea of Time's and a semi-solid idea for Four's. I got a suggention to do Four's next but because it's more fuzzy I've decided to post another poll, and let you guys decide if you'd rather I go ahead with Time's next or wait a little bit so I can solidify Four's and do his next. I will post the link to my tumblr, @naturaldisaster-goddess, tomorrow Monday June 17 at 8:30 am Central Standard Time and I will accept responses until Friday June 21 at 8:30 am CST.

As always attempting to explain who they are in relation to each other is a difficult and confusing task.

The Links, as well as Groose and Pipit, are gathered around Sky’s bed. The man in question is carefully observing as Warriors shows him how to make more and more complex patterns with nail polish.

“So all of you are reincarnations of each other,” Pipit wonders, “but also still separate people?”

Legend nods, “Think of it as a really long chain of heroes and we’re just some of the li-”

The sudden cutoff brings all the attention in the room to him, but Legend doesn’t appear to notice, still staring vacantly at the air in front of him in silent realization.

“Legend?” Hyrule asks worriedly.

“Links in a chain…” Legend mumbles, then louder, “Is our  _ name _ just a massive cosmic  _ pun _ !?”

Silence reigns for several seconds.

Surprisingly, Sky is the first to crack.

He snorts out a half laugh, the first laugh they’d heard from him in over a week, and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth looking surprised.

Once they heard it though, nothing could stop the laughter that slipped from the rest of their lips.

It really wasn’t even especially funny, but before long every occupant in the room is doubled over in laughter.

Even if it wasn’t particularly funny; they were all glad for the laugh anyway.


	39. Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter ya'll; it's been a long road.  
> The results of the poll came in a dead 50/50.  
> So I rolled a d4 and it came up Time.  
> So that's who's next on the suffering list.

There’s laughter echoing in his ears….

 

Complete darkness…. Complete silence…. No feeling except the pain…. Harsh constant pain as his limbs were stretched too far….

 

Phantom fingers around his throat….

 

Misty water around his feet and hands….

 

Laughter….

 

Violent, hateful echoes of an almost forgotten curse….

* * *

 

Time was there when he jolted awake: sore, tired, and frightened.

For once, Sky was not glad of the company.

He’d hurt them…. He’d hurt all of them…. But it seemed he had hurt Time the worst.

  
  


He didn’t know how to face that.

  
  


“Sky?”

 

Sky turned to face him.

He looked worried.

_ Why? Why are you worried about me? I ruined your life! _

 

“Sky? What’s wrong?”

 

_ Everything. _

 

There’s a hand held in front of his face, and once he’s seen it for a couple seconds it lowers to grasp his hand.

_ All because of you all because of you all because of you allbecause ofyou allbecauseofyou allbecauseofyouallbecauseofyouallbecauseofyouallbecauseofyou. _

The words echo in his ears, and even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it Sky tilts forward into Time’s chest tears poking at his eyes.

Time doesn’t ask questions; just curls his arms around Sky gently stroking his hair and rubbing his back in soothing circles.

That does him in and soon Sky is clinging to Time, who is thankfully still wearing his armor, claws scratching into the metal and tears falling from his eyes like rain.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he babbles mindlessly, over and over as the tears turn from a rain shower to a hurricane.

“I did this… I did all of this…. I hurt you guys…. It’s all my fault…. It’s all because of me….” he sobs.

He doesn’t know how Time could make heads or tails of his senseless rambling, but somehow he does.

 

And for some reason….he isn’t angry.

 

“Shh, Sky, it’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Time whispers.

“But I-”

“Shh,” Time cuts him off, then gently pulls out of the hug to look calmly into Sky’s eyes gently rubbing his head, “you didn’t do anything wrong…. And even if you had….we forgive you.”

Sky falls back into his arms and Time welcomes him easily. Tears are still flowing down Sky’s face as he clings desperately to his friend, but this time, they’re of relief.

* * *

 

Somewhere on the other side of Skyloft, in a forge that is brightly lit despite the late hour, under the careful toils of a skilled smith, the shattered fragments of a sword begin to fit together again.


	40. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here is unplanned bonus chapter,

Another several days had passed before Zelda returned; looking incredibly pleased with herself. The first thing she does is track down Sky. It’s late and he’s probably preparing for bed, but she hopes to catch him before then anyway.

Of course the first place she goes is the infirmary, and apparently she got lucky. Not only is he there, but he’s awake and happily chatting with Fi as he wraps gauze around his claws and fingertips. The Master Sword lays on the bed across from him; whole and shining. Four is curled up next to it, sound asleep with dark bags under his eyes, and the other Links lay in their own beds sleeping peacefully.

He looks up as she walks in and smiles. Fi offers a slight bow and then twirls away back into the sword. Already up, Sky darts across the room and pulls her into a hug, and she runs to meet him. Few words are exchanged as they stand in each other’s embrace; it lasts several minutes. Then Zelda pulls him up to the roof and the two of them lay side by side under the stars; exchanging hushed whispers and muffled laughs late into the night.

She wants to ask, he wants to know what the Demon Lord had done to him. The sword and his master may be dead in this time now, but their deaths don’t make the scars disappear.

She wants to ask, but he looks so happy listening to her point out the constellations, watching her with rapt, admiring attention as she tells their stories.

She wants to ask, but not tonight. Tonight she just wants to see him smile.


End file.
